We Were Agents
by The Smiling Shadow
Summary: When the choice came, Brown and Jones chose Exile. They were left behind by Smith, and now they have to learn to go on without him, and deal with emotions. Then survive in the human world, while being hunted by the new upgraded Agents.
1. No, Jones

We Were Agents  
  
He could remember everything. Absolutely everything. All of their names. . . Ms. Garfield, Ms. Saunders, Mr. Anderson. He remembered all of them. Their families, their lives, how they died, by his gun or theirs. He remembered all the sounds his gun ever made. All the screams. All the commands. The rare sight of a children laughing. He never realized how many memories he had. He never realized how much he liked them.  
  
And now, Agent Brown stands here only with Agent Jones. Agent Smith was gone. He had been gone for almost a month. They were broken Agents, with no leader. Ever since Mr. Anderson did something to Smith. . . Smith had been different. Smith left them. Smith had shown fear in his eyes. Smith had fallen. And now, for the first time, Brown felt fear. Smith was gone. Their leader. . . He had been corrupted, he had left them. He ran away. He looked them right in the eyes, and he still ran away. Brown's type of protector was gone. And only Jones was with him now. Fear. Fear of what had happened to Smith. Fear that it would happen to him. Fear that he would corrupt, he would be a Virus. He didn't want that to happen. He didn't want this human to destroy him. It wasn't supposed to be like that. Agents kill, not humans. Agents hunt, not humans. Agents don't die. But Mr. Anderson defied that. The result was Smith leaving. What made him leave them? Why? Why?  
  
Brown was always the little one. The smallest of the Agents, yet still deadly. Brown didn't notice that he was always the one on the computer, always the one checking files. The one inquiring, and thinking. Not the one fighting. He didn't realize he didn't like to fight. He didn't realize how dependent he was. No one did.  
  
Jones was the larger one of the Agents. Jones was his protector now.  
  
Brown doesn't understand what he is feeling. He doesn't know why he searches his memories. He doesn't know that he is looking back to a time before Mr. Anderson. He doesn't understand this beginning of an emotion. He wanted to consult Smith. He knew Smith would know. Smith always knew. But now he is alone with Jones. He knew this wasn't right. He shouldn't long for Smith. He shouldn't feel the need for protection. But he did, and it wouldn't stop.  
  
They stand there, unmoving. Perhaps it is because they both have fear, or maybe because they are just Agents. They stand in a white hallway, with endless green doors. They stand in a backdoor, the substructure of the Matrix. The door they face now opens to The Source.  
  
Everything that has a beginning has an end.  
  
The Agents were to report to The Source for deletion. Upgraded versions for Agents had been written. Johnson, Thompson, and Jackson would now replace Jones and Brown. They had no purpose now.  
  
Brown didn't understand why he didn't like that. He didn't like not having a purpose. He didn't understand the feeling. He didn't like it.  
  
Brown finds himself almost shaking. He doesn't know why. He knows he shouldn't be afraid. Programs are always replaced. But he didn't want to be replaced. He didn't want to be useless. He had to have a purpose. He had to.  
  
Jones slightly turns to Brown. He sees Brown's arm is shaking. He wonders why, but knows the answer. Brown doesn't look at him, and he doesn't like that. Jones then steps forth, closer to the door, closer to deletion. He turns back to Brown, who still only stares.  
  
Brown doesn't understand this. This beginning of an emotion. He had never experienced such a thing, he didn't know how to react, as he kept his face emotionless. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to be deleted. He wanted to stay, he wanted to still be an Agent. He knew he had to be deleted. But he was compelled to disobey.  
  
Then Brown realized he had a choice.  
  
This revelation of choice, made him tilt his head upward, and slightly opened his mouth, wanting to share this with Jones. He realized he had a choice. But he didn't no if Jones would understand, he didn't really fully comprehend this choice. All Brown could do was slightly form words.  
  
"No, Jones. . ." Brown said.  
  
Jones tilted his head to Brown. He didn't understand.  
  
Brown started shaking his head, and backing up. He didn't want this.  
  
"No. . ."  
  
Then Brown turned, and he ran.  
  
He defied all laws of an Agent. Agents didn't run, they did what they were told. But Brown didn't want to be deleted. Brown wanted to live. He wasn't thinking of what he'd do. He only ran. He didn't think about how he would survive, if anyone would chase him. He only ran for his life.  
  
Jones stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. If he ran after Brown, he would be disobeying orders. But he didn't want to be alone. He didn't want Brown to run away like Smith.  
  
"Brown!"  
  
Jones ran after his fellow Agent. Down the halls they ran, doors as far as anyone can see. And slowly Brown realized what he was doing. He didn't understand. What would he do after this? He slowly came to a stop, and Jones grabbed his arm. Brown didn't look at Jones, he stared ahead of him. He could still run, run to the Matrix. Run to life, but what would he do? What would happen to him?  
  
"We must return to The Source." Jones said.  
  
Brown started shaking his head again.  
  
"No! I mean. . .Yes. . ." Brown said.  
  
Brown still didn't face Jones.  
  
"We must go." Jones said.  
  
"No!" Brown yelled.  
  
"But Brown- -"  
  
Brown snatched his arm away from Jones, and turned to him. He took his sunglasses off to reveal blue eyes.  
  
"If we go, they'll delete us!" Brown yelled.  
  
"Yes." Jones nodded.  
  
Brown didn't know how to explain this feeling.  
  
"But. . .But. . ." Brown stuttered.  
  
Brown still shook his head, trying to find words to say. He started breathing irregularly. He was afraid.  
  
"That is what we must do." Jones said.  
  
"No! I don't want to be deleted!" Brown, turned away, looking back to the hallways.  
  
"But we must, the Mainframe ordered."  
  
"No! We don't have to!"  
  
"We are outdated, we must return to The Source."  
  
"But. . ."  
  
Brown turned back to Jones, with this look of desperation in his face. Brown had to go to the Source. They had to. . . They had to.  
  
"We have a choice." Brown said, more like an Agent.  
  
Jones titled his head.  
  
"A choice?" Jones asked.  
  
Brown looked down, and nodded.  
  
"We could run. They won't know until we are already gone." Brown said.  
  
"But that is not what we are supposed to do."  
  
"It doesn't matter."  
  
Jones looked at Agent Brown. They were still Agents. Still thinking like Agents. Knowing they must do this, but wanting to do something else. They knew they shouldn't be like that. Jones didn't know. Neither of them did.  
  
"But- -" Jones started.  
  
"They'll delete us!" Brown interrupted.  
  
"But they will delete us even if we run."  
  
"But if we run, we have a chance! We are Agents, we can escape."  
  
"But they'll send the upgraded Agents after us."  
  
"We can still try."  
  
Brown stepped closer to Jones. In his own subtle way, Brown was pleading for Jones to come with him. Brown didn't want to be alone.  
  
"I don't want to be like Smith." Jones said.  
  
Brown stopped.  
  
Smith had left them. Smith had been corrupted. He had lost control of his emotions. He ran. He chose Exile. He had become a Virus.  
  
"We don't have to." Brown ripped off his earpiece. "It's our choice."  
  
"Brown. . ."  
  
Jones stared at the earpiece in Brown's hand, and he slowly took out his, doubting these choices. Knowing he should go to the Source, knowing he breaking a rule for staying.  
  
"Jones, we'll die." Brown said, quietly.  
  
"Die?"  
  
Jones had never thought of deletion as death. He suddenly found himself picturing the death of Mr. Davis. Mr. Davis died, and never moved again. Death was never really a thought of an Agent. They knew what death was, and what happened with it. But never did an Agent really think about it, other than Smith.  
  
"I don't want to die." Brown said.  
  
Jones held his earpiece tightly, and Brown awaited him to reply. But he never did. And they stood there, silent, a choice in front of them.  
  
Brown then turned, and backed away. Then he looked back to Jones, who stared at him. Brown grabbed Jones's wrist.  
  
"Come on." Brown said.  
  
Then they ran.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Next Chapter (If anyone wishes for me to continue) : Remember?  
  
Please R/R!  
  
And don't worry. Smith will come, and join them. Not to mention the earlier versions of Agents from Reloaded. Remember? Persephone killed one of them with a silver bullet, just before she led Neo to the Keymaker?  
  
That is, if anyone tells me to continue. 


	2. Remember?

Remember?  
  
"Where are we going?" Brown asked.  
  
"The only place I can think of."  
  
Brown followed Jones without any question. He didn't really know how to question yet. They walked slowly up some stairs. This place was abandon. A building with cracked walls, and leaking pipes. It was something new for them. Yet neither complained, they didn't have much of a choice in the matter.  
  
Brown wasn't second guessing his decision of Exile. He was only beginning to fear what they would do now. They had no purpose. They didn't know anything on human life. They only killed them. They still had their guns under their jacket. And soon the Mainframe would realize they are not coming, and they'll send other Agents after them.  
  
Brown raised his head, and the stairs ended. Jones went ahead of him, down a hall. Brown got to the end of the hallway, and froze.  
  
"Jones. . ." He whispered.  
  
Jones stared at Brown at the end of the hallway.  
  
"It was all I could think of." Jones explained.  
  
There Brown stood. Stood exactly like before, when he watched Smith kill Mr. Anderson. This was the hallway in which Thomas A. Anderson died, and the anomaly was born. Where their troubles began. This is the place where Smith was killed. Where Smith was changed.  
  
Brown could remember the look on Smith's face. It gave him shudders. That face of fear. That face of no control. He couldn't stop it. And Brown knew he couldn't either. That was the first time fear was felt by the two other Agents. That was when they ran.  
  
Brown didn't like this place. Something about it. The memories.  
  
That human should have died. That human was dead. . . Eight bullets to the chest. Eight bullets. How could he live? How could he have killed Smith?  
  
Jones turned away, and walked into room 303. Brown only stood there. Perhaps too scared to walk forth. It took him minutes before he joined Jones in that room.  
  
The Matrix sun was beginning to rise. It would be morning soon. Jones stared at the window, and watched the world. He stood unmoving, and unfazed. Brown crept into the room, and joined Jones. Brown stood there uneasily. He slightly turned his head.  
  
"The blood is still there." Brown said.  
  
Jones turned to him, and Brown looked outside the room.  
  
The wall was still stained with Mr. Anderson's blood. It was sprayed all over the wall from the gunshots, and smeared down as he fell to the floor. The blood was still there. Almost like a sign, still saying Mr. Anderson was alive, and there was nothing they could do about it.  
  
Jones didn't look at the blood, and stared only at Brown.  
  
"I know." Jones replied.  
  
Jones didn't say anything else, as he turned his gaze back to the window. Brown looked up at Jones. Jones didn't seem fazed, and it made him feel a little weak. Brown looked down, and slowly walked closer to the wall. He stepped cautiously. Slowly, closer and closer to the blood of the anomaly.  
  
He bent down to it, and analyzed it. Emotions erupted that he didn't understand, as he tilted his head. He slowly touched it, feeling it, making sure it wasn't fresh. Making sure this happened long ago. He looked down at his fingers, and rubbed them together. The blood of the human that started this.  
  
Brown didn't understand this feeling he got from the blood, but he suddenly found himself remembering running away from Mr. Anderson.  
  
He didn't move, he stood straight still staring at his fingers, as if the blood would change him.  
  
"Do you remember?" Brown asked.  
  
Jones moved his head towards him.  
  
Brown didn't move, and behind his shades, his blue eyes moved trying to remember something he tried to forget.  
  
"Remember what?" Jones finally said.  
  
Brown still searched his memory. He knew it was there. He knew it happened. Long ago. Long, long ago.  
  
"Remember when we first met each other?" Brown finally said.  
  
Jones tilted his head. That was a very strange thing to talk about, at least for Agents. They only remembered when it was needed. He was wondering about Brown. Why he was like this. . .  
  
Brown turned to Jones, and walked up to him.  
  
"Remember when we were created? When we first heard each other?" Brown continued.  
  
Jones didn't understand Brown. What was wrong with him?  
  
"Why should we discuss this?" Jones asked.  
  
Brown looked surprised for a moment, and realized it was a strange thing to talk about. He looked down, and away from Jones.  
  
"Well, do you?" Brown asked again.  
  
Jones stared at him.  
  
"We aren't Agents anymore. . ." Brown explained.  
  
Jones sighed, being reminded of their reality. Brown looked up at him still, and Jones slowly nodded.  
  
"Do you remember what I said? I don't. . ." Brown said, shaking his head.  
  
Brown joined in Jones's staring on the city they knew. The city they chased in, hunted in.  
  
Jones seemed annoyed with the questions, but answered anyway. He sighed angrily.  
  
"You said, 'I am Agent Brown.'" Jones said.  
  
Brown tilted his head, trying to remember that.  
  
"How did you respond?" Brown asked.  
  
"You were the only that spoke, Brown."  
  
"I was?" Brown asked, surprised.  
  
Jones turned his head to the fellow ex-Agent. Jones was surprised at him.  
  
"Yes, Smith and I only nodded." Jones said.  
  
Brown nodded, and stayed silent, staring at the setting sun. Jones tilted his head at the sun. He found it almost like an omen. A message. The sun was setting, and so were they.  
  
"You know you are the youngest." Jones said.  
  
Caught in the memory files of their "birth" their creation, Jones found himself searching things. Things he had never thought about. Brown looked up at him, surprised. Brown almost smiled, Jones was accepting their decision.  
  
"I am?" Brown asked.  
  
Jones nodded.  
  
"Smith was created, then I 2.4 seconds after him. Then you, 1.7 seconds after me." Jones said.  
  
Brown turned back to the window, and smirked.  
  
"Smith is the oldest." Brown said.  
  
"Indeed. . . He is."  
  
It was a strange thing. Their leader was their elder. He always did seem more advanced. Always. . . He was after all, the one that interrogated. Perhaps he knew more about humans than Brown thought.  
  
"Do you remember are first mission?" Brown asked.  
  
Jones nodded.  
  
Brown fell a little silent.  
  
"Smith killed that person." Brown said.  
  
"Mr. Andrews." Jones added.  
  
Brown glanced up at Jones.  
  
"Smith killed him. . . Do you remember what Smith looked like after that?" Brown asked, quietly.  
  
Jones shot his head up. The two didn't speak for a long time. Remembering that night, remembering Smith smiling as his gun was fired, and the blood of the human dripped onto the ground.  
  
"We should have done something." Brown said.  
  
"How could we have known?" Jones said.  
  
"You and I saw it. . . He enjoyed it. . . I think."  
  
"He did."  
  
"We should of done something a long time ago."  
  
"You asked him once what he was doing. . . He disconnected from us, you were the only one that asked. We should have gotten him defragmented."  
  
"They would have deleted him!"  
  
"Smith? No, not Smith. They would have rebooted him. Repaired him. They would not delete him. He was the best."  
  
Brown fell silent. Could they have saved Smith? If they had done something, would he still be there with them? Would there be any need for upgrades if Smith were still there?  
  
Brown, fell to the ground, and sat against the wall. He shook his head, asking questions. . . What if. . .? He took of his sunglasses, and put them in his jacket pocket. Jones stared down at him.  
  
And now darkness. Night fell, the world through sunglasses was hard to see, and Jones took off his sunglasses as well. Revealing his brown eyes. He sighed, and walked to join Brown on the floor.  
  
"Give me your gun." Jones said.  
  
Brown looked up at him, and slowly took out his Desert Eagle. He handed it to Jones, who took out his.  
  
Brown watched as Jones looked closely at the guns.  
  
"What are you doing?" Brown asked.  
  
"I'm checking our guns, analyzing them. . . Upgrading them. . ." Jones explained, taking out a clip of bullets.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"The Agents will come for us. We must be prepared. They will be able to dodge bullets, perhaps faster than us, we must make these bullets count."  
  
Brown nodded, and banged his head against the wall.  
  
"Do you have anymore ammo?" Jones asked.  
  
"No."  
  
Jones sighed, as he took one of the guns apart.  
  
"We'll spend the night here. In the morning we should leave. That way we may escape the Agents before they find out where we are." Jones said, talking like the leader.  
  
"Where will we go?"  
  
Jones slipped something onto the side of a gun, and paused.  
  
"I don't know." Jones admitted.  
  
Brown looked down, and raised his knee to rest his arm. He sighed. He knew he had gotten them in this. No longer were they the Agents. Now they were being chased. Now they were the targets. Now, they were Exiles.  
  
Brown was scared, he knew that now. He stared at the wall across form him. He stared at the blood at the wall. He remembered feeling the pulse of Mr. Anderson. He was dead. He was. . . He remembered the sounds of Smith's gun, as he fired it once. And the pathetic human realized he had failed.  
  
Then Brown turned his head to the concentrating Jones.  
  
"Remember?" Brown asked again.  
  
"Remember what?" Jones asked, raising a gun, and aiming it.  
  
"Remember the look on Smith's face?"  
  
"Of course, I do."  
  
Brown sounded so much weaker than Jones. Brown noticed this, and hunched down, staring at the wall.  
  
"I remember hearing him through the earpiece when he shot Mr. Anderson. . ." Brown said.  
  
"He hated that human." Jones said, putting down one gun.  
  
"He hates that human. . . I don't want that. . ."  
  
Jones turned to Brown, and gave him his gun.  
  
"We won't become like that. You said so, it is our choice."  
  
Brown nodded, and raised his gun to see the modifications. Brown saw it. His Desert Eagle felt lighter, but he knew it now had more firepower. He stared at it, and turned it.  
  
"I didn't know you could do this." Brown said.  
  
Jones finished his gun, and turned to Brown. He only nodded.  
  
"Why did you say he is gone?" Jones asked.  
  
"What?" Brown turned to him.  
  
"You checked Mr. Anderson's pulse, and you said he was gone. That is a human term for death."  
  
Brown turned his head back to the wall, and blinked.  
  
"I guess it is." Brown said.  
  
Brown never realized. . .  
  
Hours passed by then, neither moved. Neither spoke. They left each other alone, thinking their own thoughts. They weren't connected anymore. Neither wore their earpieces, and both enjoyed the freedom to think whatever they wished.  
  
But through the thoughts came fear. What were they going to do now? The thought of being chased, the thought of that. Remembering the faces of humans just before death. Would they be like that?  
  
Brown turned to Jones. Would Jones be able to protect him? Would he be able to pull it off? And if he did, at what cost?  
  
"Jones. . ." Brown started, but never finished.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Next Chapter: What is That?  
  
This is fun ^_^ I always liked the other Agents.  
  
Please R/R, thx! 


	3. What Is That?

What Is That?  
  
They didn't sleep, Agents don't sleep.  
  
Jones stepped out first. He walked with the stride of an Agent. Perfect posture, with an unemotional face, his eyes covered by dark shades. Jones looked back, to see Brown running to catch up with him. Brown stood next to him, and looked around. Then noticed Jones was staring at him.  
  
"Oh." Brown said, putting on his sunglasses.  
  
Something about sunglasses with Agents. Perhaps it reminded the two what they were. What they once were. It set them aside from the humans. Maybe they needed that difference.  
  
The two stood outside there for a moment. Deciding their next move. Jones looked down at Brown, and started walking ahead of him. Brown stared for a moment, wondering where Jones was going, then ran to catch up with him.  
  
"Where are we going?" Brown asked.  
  
"This way." Jones replied.  
  
Brown turned, they didn't know where they were going.  
  
Brown's gaze turned up. He saw the tall buildings of the city towering over him. The reflections of the buildings were in his sunglasses as he stared. He had never noticed how vast the city was. No wonder some Rebels got away. Jones noticed Brown lagging behind, he turned to see him looking upward.  
  
"What is it?" Jones asked.  
  
"Look."  
  
Jones looked up, but saw nothing.  
  
"Come on." Jones said.  
  
Brown looked back to Jones, and walked with him again.  
  
The humans crowded the streets, some stared at the two in suits. The Former Agents found themselves shoving through the streets. The humans were everywhere. Brown looked up at Jones, and could see he was getting angry.  
  
"They're everywhere. There's so many of them. . ." Jones complained.  
  
Brown looked down, seeing Jones was holding his gun in his jacket. Brown grabbed his arm, and shook his head. Jones sighed, letting go of his gun. They should have been there.  
  
Walking aimlessly in a human infested world, nowhere to go, no reason to care. They had no idea where they were going, what they would do now. Jones just went in a direction, and Brown followed. That's how it always was.  
  
That how it once was.  
  
Brown stopped to see something. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, facing a store, while people passed him by. Jones looked back confused.  
  
"What is that?" Brown asked.  
  
"What is what?" Jones asked.  
  
Brown didn't answer him as he went inside the store. Jones reluctantly followed him. Jones froze at the inside the store.  
  
It was a music store.  
  
"You want something in here?" Jones called.  
  
He'd lost Brown. Brown popped up to his right.  
  
"Yes here." Brown said, and went down the front aisle.  
  
Jones stood there for a moment to process why his fellow former Agent would want anything in here.  
  
Jones started to follow Brown, and push his way through the narrow aisle filled with spiked haired humans.  
  
"What could you want here?" Jones called.  
  
Brown didn't answer he turned right.  
  
Jones decided it was best to crawl into a corner, and await his college.  
  
And Brown came walking up to him, holding something.  
  
"What is that?" Jones asked.  
  
Brown gave it to Jones, and it read on the front, "Simulacra and Simulation." Jones raised an eyebrow Brown.  
  
"Human philosophy?" Jones asked, and Brown nodded.  
  
Jones sighed, and found that Brown was staring at him.  
  
"What is it?" Jones asked.  
  
"We need money to purchase it." Brown explained.  
  
Jones wondered what Brown meant for him to do, but then he saw.  
  
"Fine." Jones said reluctantly.  
  
Brown nodded, and watched as Jones went up to a human, innocently shopping.  
  
Jones did not understand Brown's sudden curiosity, he wondered if Brown always had it. Jones decided it was best not to ask.  
  
He went up to a human. He knew what he was going to do. He wore the suit of a human of authority. A business man, FBI, government man, an Agent of something. A suit is intimidating, it holds power to a human. Jones knew that.  
  
"Excuse me, sir." Jones said to a man.  
  
"Hm?" The man looked up, and looked shock.  
  
"You fit the description of a suspect of a murder, please allow me to see your wallet." Jones said, opening his jacket to allow the human to see his gun.  
  
The human went along with the normal behaviors of a human in such a situation. He swallowed hard, and fumbled getting his wallet. He finally handed it to Jones, and Jones opened it up.  
  
"Mr. Williams." Jones stated. "Please turn around."  
  
The human nodded, and turned around.  
  
Jones grabbed a couple of twenties from the wallet, and searched the human like normal police. Jones put the money in his pocket.  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Williams. . . Sorry for the interruption." Jones said, talking slowly like the Agent he used to me.  
  
Brown almost smiled at the sight.  
  
Jones sighed at Brown obvious delight, making Brown frown.  
  
Jones gave Brown the money.  
  
"Please hurry." Jones said.  
  
Back on the streets, Brown walked slowly, scanning his new book. Jones noticed Brown fumbling behind. He did not really like it.  
  
"What was the purpose of purchasing that book?" Jones asked, pushing his way through the humans.  
  
"I want to see their insights on their own reality. Perhaps there are a few who have the intelligence to wonder if this reality is not just what it really is." Brown explained.  
  
Jones sighed.  
  
Brown noticed Jones annoyance.  
  
"It is quite fascinating." Brown teased.  
  
"What could possibly be fascinating about that?" Jones asked.  
  
"It is through the eyes of the very things we kill."  
  
Jones stopped questioning.  
  
Brown still held his book tightly. It was the first thing he ever owned by himself. Not a suit the Mainframe gave him, not a gun, but a book he wanted. Something he thought he would take a certain pleasure in. Though with the aid of Jones, it was still his, and only his.  
  
"Perhaps you would like something in your Possession, Jones." Brown suggested, trying to get Jones to see.  
  
"What would interest me?" Jones mocked.  
  
Brown looked away for a moment, seeing a restaurant on the other side of the street.  
  
"I recall you having a conversation with Smith, considering the nutrition value of their food." Brown said, accomplished.  
  
"So?" Jones looked at him.  
  
"You showed quite an interest in taste."  
  
Jones stopped, and Brown felt accomplished. Jones raised an eyebrow at his fellow former Agent.  
  
"If you have any money left, we may be able to conduct an experiment." Brown said.  
  
"Taste." Jones finished.  
  
"You choose."  
  
Brown was going to allow Jones to experience choice, and choose what they would taste first.  
  
Jones took a moment staring a Brown, processing his choice. Suddenly Jones didn't think Exile would be so bad. He looked at his surroundings, the coffee shops, apartment buildings, bookstores, music stores, Cyber Cafes, and so much mores.  
  
Then something caught Jones's eyes through his dark shades.  
  
"Noodles." Jones said.  
  
Brown turned to a restaurant with noodles.  
  
"Noodles?" Brown asked.  
  
"Noodles, just noodles hold not much taste. Since it will be our first time, I believe we should try something not too shocking. Noodles can serve this purpose." Jones explained, walking ahead to the restaurant.  
  
Brown raised an eyebrow, and followed Jones.  
  
In the restaurant they sat down quietly, just as Agents should. Saw that the menu had many noodles, and carefully chose, the seemingly least tasting one.  
  
And as Brown stared at his little bowl of noodles, he looked up at Jones.  
  
"You try first." Brown stated.  
  
"Why me?" Jones asked.  
  
"You chose noodles."  
  
Jones coughed out of annoyance, as he stared at the noodles, and fiddled with them in the spoon. He took a moment, trying to examine it, wondering if it would be able to cause him harm.  
  
"Well?" Brown asked, impatient.  
  
Jones growled at him.  
  
Then slowly, the noodles went down his throat.  
  
And Jones' discovered he had a horrible gag reflex. He started coughing up the taste, the item going down his throat; he covered his mouth, and bent down under the table. Taste, never before had he experienced taste, he didn't like it.  
  
Brown stared, frightened at what he saw, as he leaned over to hit Jones on the back.  
  
"Sir, are you alright!?" The waitress came running over.  
  
"I'm – I'm fine!" Jones said through the coughing.  
  
Brown then began looking down at his bowl of noodles, and stared at the menacing things that did something horrible to Jones.  
  
Brown knew by his records Noodles should not cause such a reaction.  
  
Nonetheless, Brown slowly pushed his bowl away from him.  
  
Then Brown noticed all the staring eyes. All the Viruses looking at them...  
  
"Jones." Brown whispered, bending down to Jones. "I think we should go."  
  
"Why—Why?" Jones kept coughing.  
  
"They will be coming for us."  
  
Jones stopped, and panted, holding back a cough.  
  
Yes, they were drawing too much attention... If too much, the Mainframe will find them...The Agents will be sent.  
  
Jones rested for a moment.  
  
"Go, go!" Jones instructed.  
  
Brown left all the money he had, and walked quickly out the door. Jones waited a moment, before following him.  
  
"Get down." Jones went on, when he caught up with Brown.  
  
Then there was silence...Silence, and safety. Brown slightly smiled, while Jones still rubbed his throat.  
  
Then there were gunshots.  
  
"No." Brown said.  
  
Three Agents, running down the sidewalk towards them.  
  
"Jones!" Brown looked at his college fearfully.  
  
Jones grabbed Brown by the arm, and ran into the nearest building. Jones kicked down a locked door, into the stairs. Always running, yielding to Jones. Brown knew he was scared, and he wondered if Jones was too.  
  
This was it. They were going to meet their upgrades. This was it. They were going to be killed by their upgrades.  
  
And all Brown could do was panic, and hope that Jones was going to protect him.  
  
Jones tried opening the door the fifth floor. He had to resort to kicking it down. Jones pushed Brown to the end of the hallway.  
  
"Run." Jones commanded him.  
  
"Jones?" Brown pleaded at him.  
  
"Run!" Jones closed the door, and separated them.  
  
Brown stood there for a moment. Then heard gunshots, and started running.  
  
He went down the hallway, trying to find exits, doors that lead to a hiding place. He looked back, and didn't see Jones.  
  
And Brown felt fear. So much fear.  
  
They were upgrades. Better in everyway. Surely they would find him. There was no use. No purpose. But Brown ran anyway.  
  
He tried looking for Jones. He tried finding him, wondering where he was, denying the possibility of their deaths.  
  
He just kept running.  
  
Then he turned a corner, and there was a gun to his head.  
  
"You are to be deleted." Was all Jackson said.  
  
Then Brown backed to the wall, and closed his eyes.  
  
  
  
Next Chapter: Dodge This 


	4. Dodge This

Dodge This  
  
"Are you afraid?" Jackson observed.  
  
Brown stayed silent.  
  
"Agents should not feel fear. Agents should not feel." Jackson continued.  
  
Brown looked down, almost ashamed.  
  
"Why do you feel?"  
  
Then Brown closed his eyes, and waited.  
  
"Dodge this."  
  
A gun fired, and Jackson lay on the floor, already reverted back to the human he took over.  
  
Brown looked up.  
  
"Jones!" He yelled in delight.  
  
Jones backed up, and widened his eyes as he saw Brown's reaction. He backed away, still holding his Desert Eagle, and he showed no emotion to Brown's smile. Brown stopped as he saw Jones back away. He looked down, and straightened his tie, regaining his Agent composure. He turned around, and picked up his book off the ground, and tucked it away in his Jacket pocket.  
  
"Dodge this?" Brown asked.  
  
Jones turned his back on Brown, and started walking. And before Brown could notice he smiled.  
  
"Yes." Jones replied.  
  
"Dodge this?" Brown repeated.  
  
The phrase that rebel said to him!? That simple sentence that he heard before his death!?  
  
"It seemed...appropriate." Jones explained.  
  
Brown stood in disbelief for a moment.  
  
"Come. They will come back for us." Jones started walking away.  
  
"Jones..." Brown started, catching up to him. "Thank you."  
  
Jones looked over at Brown.  
  
"For what?" Jones asked.  
  
Brown was surprised.  
  
"For saving me."  
  
"That is what we must do. There is no purpose for thanks."  
  
Yes. That is what they did. They would protect each other, because all they had were each other. Brown almost smiled at the comment. Jones would be his protector. He was safe.  
  
Then there was walking again. Slipping into the streets, trying not to be noticed. Trying not to be attracted. The endless roads, and endless crowds. Nowhere to go, nowhere to run. So, they just kept walking. Just keep walking, and maybe they'll find somewhere to go.  
  
Brown could not help but look up at Jones every so often.  
  
"Do you know where we are going?" Brown would ask.  
  
"No."  
  
"Do you wish to go anywhere?"  
  
"No."  
  
Brown sighed, and Jones was annoyed.  
  
"We should find somewhere to stay, it is getting dark." Jones observed.  
  
"Dark?" Brown looked up.  
  
"They're still looking for us. Have you already forgotten what it is like to be an Agent? At night we...they are more efficient, because many rebels do their business at night." Jones explained, looking to the side as they walked.  
  
The constant scanning of the entire Matrix. The constant scans searching for glitches, anomalies, and exiles. Everything seemed to be busier as the sun went down. Agents, they would go all night killing. Just killing. Just allowing Smith to kill them...  
  
Of course Brown remembered. Of course he had the memories, he just didn't wish to recall them.  
  
"We need shelter." Jones said.  
  
Jones stopped, and started looking around, as if he knew someone was watching him.  
  
"Let's go in there." Brown pointed slightly.  
  
"There? It's a club!" Jones sounded disgusted.  
  
Brown started walking down the street towards the club.  
  
"It is the last place they'll look. You and I both know that." Brown mocked.  
  
"It is a club." Jones persisted.  
  
"We'll only stay for as long as it will provide protection."  
  
Jones growled in defeat, and started following Brown.  
  
Too much noise, too much darkness, too much drinking, too much dancing. Jones turned his head, trying to look away. While Brown was in amazement at such a place. Jones followed Brown as he found a place to sit in the corner.  
  
"It is not that bad. We have been in clubs before. We have become people in clubs before." Brown said.  
  
"That is different. We were doing our jobs before." Jones growled.  
  
"Just a little while, then the Agents will be assigned another job, for the night."  
  
"Can I get you two anything?"  
  
A waitress.  
  
Brown looked over at Jones, and smiled.  
  
"I would like any red wine if you have any." Brown said.  
  
The waitress smiled and walked away.  
  
"Red wine?" Jones asked.  
  
"I recall Smith commenting about it, after his dinner with Mr. Reagan." Brown smiled.  
  
And before Jones knew it, Brown was taking his third sip of red wine.  
  
"I believe alcohol is much better than noodles." Brown said happily.  
  
Behind his sunglasses Jones rolled his eyes.  
  
This was not where they should be. This was not where they should ever be, what they should ever be doing. This was not purpose, this was not ethical. It was disgusting, it was repulsive. What happened to the Agency? The Mainframe? Where did they go? Why did they leave them? What did they do wrong?  
  
"Jones?"  
  
He did his purpose, there was no need for deletion. They wouldn't become like Smith. They wouldn't, they feared being like Smith. Why would they turn their backs on them? He didn't want to be here. He never wanted to be here. Why was here? Why did Brown take him here?  
  
"Jones?"  
  
Jones turned his head.  
  
"Yes?" He asked.  
  
"You seemed in deep thought." Brown observed, like Brown always does.  
  
"Yes." Jones nodded.  
  
Brown took another sip of drink in worry.  
  
"What were you thinking about?" He asked quietly, asking like Brown always does.  
  
"Nothing." Jones said.  
  
"That's impossible to think of nothing."  
  
"If we still were connected, we would know what each other were thinking, isn't that right?"  
  
Brown took another sip.  
  
"They would never take us back." Brown whispered.  
  
"I know."  
  
It doesn't hurt to imagine.  
  
Brown didn't want Jones to second-guess this. Not now. Not ever. This was how it had to be. Exiles. Things they used to kill. That's the way it must be.  
  
"Hello sir, do want to dance?"  
  
"Huh?" Brown looked up.  
  
Jones allowed himself to smile.  
  
"I asked if you want to dance."  
  
A female, a woman. A beautiful woman, asking Brown.  
  
"Uh...I'm, I'm tired from my work day, Miss. I finally am able to rest." Brown tried.  
  
"Oh, yes, your suits, you must have important jobs!" The woman yelled, smiling.  
  
"Nonsense, Mr. Brown! You love to dance! You're the one that dragged me in here!"  
  
"Jones?" Brown looked over.  
  
Jones smiled, and raised his hand to Brown. He yelled with the sound of happiness, and glee.  
  
"You love to dance?" The woman asked.  
  
"Of course he does!" Jones continued.  
  
"Jones!?" Brown looked at him.  
  
"Well, let's go!"  
  
The woman grabbed Brown's hand, and dragged him to the dance floor, and Jones just smiled as Brown looked horrified. Jones then grabbed Brown's drink, and took a sip of it.  
  
Jones had also been observing, observing quite well, too.  
  
"Now that you're alone..."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Jones looked up, to see a woman sit down into Brown's seat. She smiled at him. Jones took another sip of Brown's drink.  
  
"Come on, take those sunglasses off." The woman told Brown.  
  
"Um... My eyes are very sensitive! The lights!" Brown made excuses.  
  
"Then at least take this tie off."  
  
Brown grabbed his tie.  
  
"This is an expensive suit!"  
  
Jones was scared.  
  
"Looks like your friend ditched you." The woman told Jones.  
  
"Well..." He looked over at Brown.  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
"Mr. Jones."  
  
Brown's girl started dancing, and looking over at him, wondering why he wasn't. She started grabbing his hand, trying to get him to dance. But Brown lowered his head, afraid. Of all his observing, he could not mimic the talent of dance.  
  
"Well, what's your first name?" The woman asked Jones.  
  
"Uh...I cannot reveal that to you." Jones lowered in his seat.  
  
"Aw, why not?" The woman leaned closer to him.  
  
"I..."  
  
She started grabbing for his tie.  
  
"Please don't touch!" Jones grabbed her hand.  
  
The woman smiled at him. She smiled like Smith once did. Predatory, knowing she was going to get what she wanted.  
  
"My, my Mr. Jones." She said.  
  
Brown attempted to dance. He tried, he really did. Some things he was just never programmed to do or be able to do.  
  
"Ow!"  
  
"Brown!?" Jones looked over.  
  
Brown came running, two hands over the right side of his face.  
  
"What happened?" Jones asked.  
  
"She slapped me!" Brown said.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I don't know!"  
  
Women. An erratic part of the species. Also a most flexible rebel. They still could not capture the human female, Trinity. Unpredictable, emotion filled, dangerous part of the species.  
  
Then there were gunfires.  
  
Jones grabbed Brown and pushed him behind him. On the other side of the club, stood three men in suits.  
  
"Run." He whispered to Brown.  
  
Brown felt Jones pushed him into a crowd of people. Jones kept a close eye on the Agents, as he saw them turn their heads towards them. He felt for his gun.  
  
Then Agent Johnson pointed at them, as they ran.  
  
Three people around them became Agents. Jones kicked on in the side, and Brown punched one.  
  
"Go!" Jones yelled.  
  
People began screaming, and running. Jones and Brown just ran and ran. Jones pushed Brown out the exit, and started running.  
  
Jones protected Brown. Protected small Brown. That's how it is. That is how it has always been.  
  
"Up the ladder." Jones commanded, pushing him towards the side of a building with a fire escape.  
  
Running, always got to run. That's how it is now. That's how it is always going to be. That how it is being, an Exile. That what Exiles do, run.  
  
They ran down a hallway, turning right then left, up some stairs, and right again. They were once Agent's though, and they knew Agents would find them.  
  
At the end of a hallway, there was a dead end. Jones growled, as he put Brown behind him, and got out his gun.  
  
"I will protect you." Jones said.  
  
"Jones..."  
  
This was how it always was. This was how it went. Brown, little Brown, only good for questions and observing. Firing a gun when needed. Protected behind Smith and Jones. Smith always left them, and Jones always protected him.  
  
  
  
The human is alive. Impossible, Smith killed him. No, the human is alive. The human is getting up. The human is different.  
  
Running their heads, their thoughts shared together. This was before. This was when Smith was killed. This was back in room 303.  
  
The human is an Anomaly.  
  
They watch as Smith is struck down. They watch as there is no hope for Mr. Anderson to be killed. There is no hope for death.  
  
And as Smith falls to the ground, Jones puts his arm in front of Brown, because that is what they do. Because that is how it is. Jones protects Brown.  
  
Smith? Something is wrong. Abort. Smith! Abort. Smith!  
  
Then Smith is killed.  
  
Run.  
  
  
  
This is how it is. This is how it is, and the three Agents come to them. Not even guns drawn, they are so sure they will kill them. Jones hand begins to shake, and Brown closes his eyes.  
  
"Dodge this, right?" Brown whispers.  
  
"Dodge this." Jones nods.  
  
And Jones pushes Brown into the corner, and slides down the wall, killing Agent Johnson in the front. Then he punched into the wall by the other two.  
  
"Jones..." Brown whispers. "Jones."  
  
"What?"  
  
"They look like us!"  
  
Jones looked up. Agents Jackson and Thompson. Their upgrades.  
  
And on the floor, Jones still held his gun, and Jackson pushed Thompson behind him, and they both got their guns out.  
  
This was it. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. To close to dodge the bullets the Agents will fire. They gave it a shot, they tried. This is how it is though. This is what happens when you are and Exile. How many Exiles had they killed?  
  
They tried. They really did. But they were obsolete. They were incomplete.  
  
Jones looked at Brown.  
  
This is how it goes. This is death. And they felt fear.  
  
Then a blade cut Agent Thompson's throat, and gunfire killed Agent Jackson. Jones and Brown looked up. Two albino twins stood there, and looked down at them.  
  
Then the Twins smiled.  
  
  
  
Next Chapter: Proposal  
  
It's true! In the first Matrix, when Smith is kicked down by Neo at the end, Jones puts his arm in front of Brown!  
  
Here's a pic of it, just put it in your address bar:  
  
http:us.f2.yahoofs.com/bc/3fb6f7f0fe27/bc/MyDocuments/moreproof!.jpg?bfY G10AB.YxfNlF 


End file.
